Like Family
by BananaB0mb
Summary: Maybe they weren't just friends. Yeah… They were more like brothers to him.
1. Sly

**I haven't written anything serious in nearly 6 years, so this is an attempt to get back into it. You'll have to excuse any of the mistakes I make, grammatically, and in spelling and whatnot. It's a bit difficult falling into the groove, but hopefully it'll be easier when I write more.**

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><p><em>Their adventures were never boring. <em>

_Not when they were running away from an intrepid - and not to mention, beautiful - cop. Especially not when they were being captured by enemies more notorious than anything the law could throw at them. Not when they had managed to save Paris, (and possibly even the world) from an abject being known as Clockwerk. _

_It could be said that Sly Cooper and his gang were heroes._

_However, society had something else to say about them._

_They were thieves. _

_Nothing more and nothing less. Even if they stole from those who were corrupt and evil, the law said they were bad and that was the way it was going to stay._

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><p><strong>Chapter I: Sly<strong>

Sly Cooper, the current leader and last in the long line of thieves crouched at the edge of a rooftop, watching the sun set over Paris. The horizon and buildings below him twinkled with lights, almost dazzling him with their brilliance. He always did love to just simply sit on a rooftop and watch the city glow under his feet.

However, tonight he wasn't here to simply admire the city. He had a job to do. His eyes scanned the ground. Once he was sure there were few, if any people on the streets, he stood grasping his cane tightly.

The cane he carried shone in the setting sun, flashing red for the briefest of moments. The handle was made of polished wood, smooth and sturdy enough to ensure it could last through anything - even hitting thugs over the head. The handle elegantly swung into a hook, gold plated and strong. It was odd for someone of Sly's caliber to carry something that stood out so, let alone something he would take on his thieving expeditions. However, the cane was important to him.

It was a last memento of his father, Connor Cooper, who had died many years ago.

Sly frowned to himself, thinking back to that day. He sorely wished his memory would serve him better on nights when he wanted to remember the happy times he spent with his father. Sly's mother had died when he was young because of illness, leaving only the older Cooper and his son to fend for themselves. At first it had been hard, the young raccoon remembered, if somewhat hazily. But it didn't matter to the two. They were still family, and their bond had been - was - strong. That was one of the few things Sly could remember of his father. Otherwise, most days when he laid his head to rest, he would wake up shaking and biting back a scream of horror at having to witness his father's brutal murder. Sly could still clearly hear his father shouting at him to hide, and the yells of pain Connor gave when claws, and the like tore into his flesh…

The lithe raccoon shook his head, frustrated that he'd let himself get lost in such unhappy memories.

A buzzing in his ear shook any other thoughts from his mind, and he quickly leaned down while placing a hand to his ear. The small headset embedded in his ear beeped into life, with the sound of one of his friend's voices filtering through. "Sly! How's everything going?"

"Fine," he answered, somewhat curtly. A small shake of his head and a sigh, he quickly answered with, "everything's fine, Bentley. You need to stop worrying or you're going to give yourself an aneurism."

Bentley sounded insulted by the quip. "I'm sorry if I'm worried for the safety of my friend."

"Sorry, sorry," Sly apologized quickly. "What does 'The Wizard' have planned for this heist then?"

The raccoon could practically hear the eye roll when Bentley replied. "I've already told you, Sly. You need to get in there, and steal those documents. If we don't get this done tonight, they'll be in Jacan's hand and long gone. We won't have another shot at this, so be careful when you get in there. There's sure to be heavy security."

"Right," Sly quipped, "I'll be back with those documents in a jiffy." He let the little earpiece go, and quickly went to business. Checking to see if the distance was correct, he jumped off the edge and caught his cane on a loose pipe. The sound of metal clinking when the two connected echoed in the alleyway, but Sly ignored it, and quickly caught the cane in his teeth, using his hands to pull himself up.

With swiftness only known to the Cooper clan, Sly was up on the roof of the next building, and running towards a ventilation shaft that would lead inside. Again, he used his cane to pry it open, and jumped in without hesitation.

The shaft dropped for a while, however the raccoon used his arms to steady the fall and carefully pick his way through the maze of ventilation. Once the shaft leveled out, he struggled to pull a map from inside his shirt and checked to see he was going in the right direction. It was a long crawl from the roof to the room he was aiming for, and he soon came to an opening.

Bentley's hacking skills hadn't failed them once again. Sly looked out between the grates in the opening, and took a quick look around to see what they were dealing with.

The room he looked out at was large for an office. A long desk made of what looked like oak stood in front of lavish red curtains, pulled closed against what Sly could only imagine was a window. It was dark, with all the lamps and the impressive chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling turned off for the night. Wood paneled the walls, and very expensive looking vases and ornaments decorated several bookshelves. Bentley would have a field day if he could see how many books this Jacan individual kept. The carpet on the floor looked just as rich as everything else, with what looked like gold thread sewn into several designs, Sly observed. It was obvious this man had expensive tastes.

From his vantage point, Sly could see it wasn't too large of a drop from the ventilation shaft. If he was careful, he could avoid some of the potted plants and expensive looking vases off to the side. He glanced about for a moment before using his cane to break the door off the opening and slip down into the room. He fell fast, but softly, rolling to stem the pressure off his feet. Making sure that his entry hadn't warned anyone, Sly stood and pulled a hand to his ear. "Alright, I'm in Bentley. Where'd you say the safe was?"

Bentley's voice filtered in through the white noise. "Nice job Sly. Alright, the safe _should _be behind a painting of Jacan and his wife. It should be somewhere there."

"Sure," Sly answered distractedly. He broke the connection, his eyes sweeping the room. His eyes soon fell upon a large painting in an intricate gold frame holding the canvas in place. Jacan, a crime lord acting as a politician, was a large man, the suit he was wearing straining against his broad shoulders and chest. Black hair stood on his head, spiked, and trimmed neatly, his sideburns growing into a scruffy beard around his octagonal face. Sly felt a small shiver go down his spine as he glanced up at the wolverine's silver eyes. They almost seemed to stare straight into his soul; Sly couldn't imagine how the real man's eyes would look. Jacan stood beside his wife, who smiled down at an invisible audience. She was a beautiful rabbit, her white fur almost gleaming in the painting. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into elegant curls, framing her oval face and large brown eyes. The dress she wore left nothing to the imagination, her bosom lifted high and proud, and the material of her red dress, spilling across the chair she sat on.

Sly took a moment to appreciate the painting (and Jacan's beautiful wife) before stepping forward to pull it off.

It proved to be much more difficult than he'd imagined, as the frame weighed the entire painting down. Sly struggled for a moment, but managed to place the painting carefully on the carpeted floor. Just as Bentley had said, a safe stood in the wall, just waiting to be unlocked. He pulled out the same paper that his friend had scrawled a map onto, and quickly read off the numbers while punching them into the electronic keypad. It beeped once he'd entered the correct code and swung open. Inside sat the documents Sly had been vying for, and he quickly grabbed them, and shoved them into the backpack he wore. He would usually abstain from using the old thing, but Bentley had insisted he use it for carrying the documents out.

"You can't risk bending those papers!" Bentley had said. "They're very important and we need them in one piece if we're going to hand them over to Interpol."

Sly smiled and chuckled to himself before looking into the safe to see what else Jacan had hidden in it. Sure enough, there was just one more item in it, and he quickly took it out and observed it. It was an expensive looking silver necklace with a simple pendant on the end incrusted with jewels. This would certainly sell for a lot of Thiefnet. Sly pocketed the necklace as well and pulled out one of his infamous calling cards and placed it carefully in the safe.

Once that was done, he turned his back on it, and contacted his friends outside. "All done in here, guys."

"Good job, Sly! Murray and I will be waiting for you outside," Bentley replied before both of them ended the transmission.

Despite himself, Sly took another quick look around to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Nothing else stood out to him, so he turned and looked for a way to get back up to the ventilation shaft.

A footstep outside the door.

Another shiver ran through the raccoon's spine, and he crouched down, suddenly tense. He quickly hid behind the desk making sure he couldn't be seen from the position and peeked out to see just who might be coming in.

Silence.

The door suddenly rattled on it's hinges, making the wall shake violently. Voices shouted from behind it, and another crash echoed. It was clear someone was trying to break the door down.

_Shit, _he swore. "Bentley," he muttered as quietly as he could, "looks like this is going south, fast. Get the van running. I'm going to make a hasty retreat."

"What do you mean?" Bentley cried urgently. "What's going on?"

"Either someone's having a good time out there, or they're trying to break down the door to the room I'm in," Sly said. Despite the slight panic drifting through his head, his voice remained as calm as could be, in order not to panic the turtle anymore.

"Oh no. No, no, no," Bentley stammered. Silence for a moment before static suddenly blasted in Sly's ear and the turtle shouted, "just out of there, _now_. Climb out a window, do anything you can to get out of there!"

"Right," Sly countered sarcastically, "I hadn't thought of that," before he moved from his position. "Just keep the van going," he added one last time before cutting the connection off. He pulled the curtains aside, confirming his suspicions. A large bay window flooded the room with moonlight, with a rather terrific view of Paris; Sly couldn't help but admire it for a moment.

The door shook for what seemed like the thousandth time, and he looked back to see the door buckling against the pressure and cracking enough to let more light shine in. He quickly looked for a latch to open the doors, but there didn't seem to be any.

He cursed again.

The room shook once more, and the door crashed onto the floor, finally unable to handle the stress. He spun around, temporarily blinded by flashlights.

"Hands up, Ringtail!"

"Do mine ears deceive me?" Sly grinned despite himself. Of course, he should have known _she'd _be here.

"Stop joking around," Inspector Carmelita Fox shouted. Her shock pistol, her favourite weapon of choice locked onto Sly, her aim steady and determined.

Sly couldn't help the small upturn of his mouth at the sight of her. Carmelita was a beautiful woman, with very shapely hips and - dare he think it - a rather defined chest. The black halter he always saw her wearing didn't leave anything to the imagination, but her short bomber jacket covered a majority of her top half. Long dark curls framed her face and eyes, the sharp color of amber that glared in his direction. "I said hands up!"

He obeyed, and lifted his hands in the air, still clutching his cane. "Carmelita, how surprising to see you here again. How are you tonight?"

"Shut up," she snapped. Carefully, she made her way towards him, still keeping her gun trained on his chest. Behind her, a few other Interpol agents hurried in after her, also keeping their guns on Sly. Although he hadn't done anything to endanger them, it was better safe than sorry. He was a thief after all.

"How'd you find out I was here?" he asked during the silence.

The vixen blinked at the question, and smirked. "For all your 'master thievery' you overlooked the fact the floors are pressure sensitive, connected to a silent alarm."

"Clever," Sly commented. Indeed, he hadn't thought of that possibility. Apparently, Bentley hadn't either. That was something to keep in mind from now on.

Carmelita suddenly tossed handcuffs at him, so they landed right at Sly's feet. "Put those on, and come with us quietly," she demanded firmly. She finally had Sly Cooper in her grasp and there was no way Carmelita was going to let him get away from her again. He was in a difficult situation regardless, with herself, and 3 other Interpol agents backing her up. There was _no way _Cooper was getting away.

Sly eyed the handcuffs, and turned his head to grin at the female Interpol agent. "And if I don't, my dear?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't even joke, Cooper. If you don't come quietly, I'll be forced to shoot you with this," she gestured to her shock pistol. "If I recall, it's not very pleasant to be hit by it, is it?"

The raccoon grimaced at the memory. He'd only been shot once by the gun, and the pain was still well carved in his mind. He didn't want to be hit by it again. "Of course," he answered. "Who would forget a lovely lady such as yourself, shooting off a big gun like that?"

"Not funny."

Sly shrugged. "It was worth a shot." Then he chuckled. "Get it?"

Carmelita sighed. Her patience had finally waned. "Just put the god damned cuffs on. We'll both walk out of here unscathed, and you'll finally be behind bars. Everyone wins."

"Sorry gorgeous, but the deal doesn't really work for me," he replied with a smirk. His cane clattered to the floor suddenly, setting off a hidden smoke bomb; a recent, and very clever invention of Bentley's.

Smoke billowed across the agents, blinding them and causing a panic.

"Don't shoot!" Carmelita demanded. In the chaos that ensued, Sly dipped down and grabbed his cane and made a wild dash for the window. The sound of Sly's feet runing across the carpet cause the fox to yell, "no, damn it! Cooper!"

Glass shattered upon impact with Sly's body, who had made the sudden, and rather rash, decision to break through the window and hope that he landed safely. Running through a window was nothing like the movies however. Sly had lifted his arms to protect his head from the collision, and was lucky enough for nothing to pierce his head.

However, shards of glass cut swiftly through his arms, ripping apart and embedding itself in his flesh. He winced at the pain, but ignored it to hook his cane on anything to slow his descent. However, in his haste, he failed to note that it was a sheer drop from the room to the ground.

Carmelita ran to the now shattered window, and watched in horror as Cooper fell with what looked like no immediate means of slowing his fall. "Come on!" she shouted while turning from the window. She couldn't help the fear that fueled her into action at the thought that Sly could possible die from the fall.

When it was apparent that he had absolutely no means to slow his descent from the third floor, Sly cursed his bad luck. Even as the wind rushed wildly past his ears, a sudden flood of memories rushed into his mind.

Memories of when Sly first met Murray at the orphanage… When Bentley first arrived. When they first became friends… When they successfully pulled off their first heist… When the gang had first come to Paris… When they brought down their first criminal… When they had finally acknowledged each other as brothers…

Sly closed his eyes to stem the flow, but everything kept flashing before his eyes. _So it's true, _his mind echoed, _your memories do flash before your eyes before you die. _Opening his eyes one last time, he suddenly felt defiant. He couldn't let it end like this. He couldn't leave his friends to mourn over his body.

**Sly wouldn't allow himself to become a memory.**

He twisted one last time in desperation to try and find something soft to fall onto, but once he did, agony like he had never experienced before exploded through his very being. Something hit his head with such force, it left him blinded. As he lay on whatever it was he had landed on, he thought bitterly to himself, _it wasn't supposed to be like this._

Then everything went silent.

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><p>Bentley and Murray sat anxiously in the getaway van, awaiting any new information from Sly. The device in Bentley's ear remained silent however, and he sighed, drumming his fingers against the dashboard of the van. It was a useless endeavor, however, the turtle felt like he needed to do <em>something <em>to make himself feel calmer.

Murray was so nervous he couldn't even eat the snack he'd brought along (and that was saying something). The pink hippo leaned out of the window and squinted up at the night sky. "Are you sure Sly is okay?" he asked the turtle.

"He should be, yes," Bentley answered. He attempted to mask the slight tremble in his voice, but it came out anyway. Despite the fact this sort of thing happened a lot, it never helped the nerves Bentley got. What if their luck ran out? What if Sly was caught? So many 'if's' ran through his mind, that he soon grew tired of thinking up scenarios.

He only needed to trust that his friend would get out of the mess created.

"Let's…" Bentley paused for a moment, thinking. "Let's just keep waiting, alright Murray? I'm sure Sly will be back before you know it, grinning like a fool."

"R-right," Murray answered uncertainly.

Silence drifted over the two as they waited once more. Their anxiousness seemed to drift over them like bats, unable to leave them alone. Bentley sorely wished for a sign - anything, really - that would let him know Sly was on his way.

Almost as if on cue, the sound of glass shattering echoed from above their position. Both of them jumped, wondering what it could be. But before either could react, something crashed onto the roof of their van, shaking it to it's very core. Glass shards soon followed, sprinkling themselves across the hood and ground like snow.

"What was _that_?" Murray asked in a small voice. The two remained where they were, both afraid to make the first move to check what it was.

"I'll go and…" Bentley paused, a sudden thought striking him suddenly. He sighed. "Perhaps you should go and check it out, Murray."

The hippo turned to his disabled friend, his face stricken with what Bentley could only describe as fear. "Are you sure we should be checking it out? Maybe we should just drive off and-"

"No, Murray," his shorter friend interrupted. "What if someone fell from…" His nasally voice trailed off. He didn't even want to think of _who _it could be.

Murray felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn't want to go out there to check what it is. He'd always prided himself on his strength, however Murray was still a coward when it came to the unknown. Perhaps it was something that stemmed from his childhood. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and slowly extricated himself from the van.

The alleyway was silent in the night, and dark. They had specifically chosen this spot in order to keep out of sight from any cops or the like for their escape. It had surely done the job as nothing stirred except for the a few mice scurrying around for food. Garbage and newspapers drifted past Murray's feet in clumps.

Making sure to avoid the shards of glass, Murray stepped from the van's door and looked around again; he wanted to be sure no one was around. Once that was confirmed, he squinted up at the roof of their van. The entire roof was dented and he if he looked closely enough something that looked like dark liquid was running off the edges…

"Murray," Bentley's voice rang out suddenly. "Is that… _blood?_"

The hippo had only just realized what it was, and fear coursed through his body. _Please don't let it be…_

He quickly hurried over to the ladder leading up to the roof of his precious van, and climbed like he had never climbed before. What he saw shocked him so bad, he nearly let go on the ladder and fell to the ground.

Dark, vicious liquid leaked out from under a body.

_Sly's body. _

The raccoon's body lay on the van, silent save for the ragged breath escaping Sly's lungs. One of his arms looked to be broken, laying haphazardly at the edge of the van's roof. His once bright blue clothing, a trademark of his thievery, stained dark and red from all the blood.

Murray suppressed a cry of fear, and leapt forward to his friend. He tried his best to avoid the blood pooling around his friend's broken body, and reached to try and grab him. However he paused, suddenly fearful if he tried to move Sly it would cause more damage than good. _No, no, _Murray's thoughts raced. "Bentley!" he cried out into the night. He didn't care if his voice carried out into the streets for everyone to hear. "Get some blankets ready! I'm coming down now, and we're out of here!" He sounded much more in control than he felt.

Carefully, he gathered Sly in his arms, and leapt down from the roof with a wince. Sly's body remained motionless however as he raced to the back of the van just as Bentley opened it for him.

The turtle's jaw dropped at the sight, and quickly moved away to let Murray place the raccoon's body on a cot they kept in the back of the van. It was usually used for emergencies and this certainly qualified as one. Bentley immediately went to work, and quickly noted where the blood was coming from. A gash across the back of Sly's head bled profusely, the fur matted and darkened. Bentley pulled one of the blankets aside, and pressed it against the wound, hoping the pressure would stem the flow of blood.

"Sly, don't you dare die on us, you hear me?" Bentley demanded uselessly at his friend's lifeless form. "You're stronger than this!"

The van rocked suddenly as Murray jumped into the driver's seat, and slammed the door. Luckily he'd had the van going, and they soon peeled from the scene, leaving only glass and tire tracks in their wake.

Only one thought echoed through both of their minds.

_Please don't let our brother die tonight._

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><p><strong>Blah. That's all I really have to say. I'll continue this hopefully.<strong>


	2. Bentley

**Thanks to those who have shown interest in this little story of mine! I really appreciate it, and I'll certainly keep going at it.**

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><p><em>They were like brothers to me. <em>

_After being sent to Happy Campers Orphanage when my parents had been killed in a car accident, I was sure I was alone. However, Sly and Murray helped me realize that I wasn't alone at all._

_They helped me realize, _family _didn't extend to only blood relatives. __They made me realize how deeply the word could connect others. _

_Especially three best friends who had nothing else to lose in the world._

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><p><strong>Chapter II: Bentley <strong>

The engine of Murray's van roared through Bentley's ears.

His hands were beginning to numb from being clenched at Sly's head for however long they'd been driving. The blanket he was using had long since soaked through, now staining the young turtle's hands. Nevertheless, he refused to relieve the pressure.

Murray's driving was as erratic as ever, however, Bentley could see from the mirror hanging from the van's front window the determination in the hippo's eyes. Murray's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, as he swerved through the streets of Paris, avoiding any red lights and only pausing long enough at stop signs to avoid any accidents. His sights were set on their destination, and it was only a few minutes after that they were turning into their garage. As soon as the garage door had closed, Murray jumped out, and ran to the back to pull open the doors.

The hippo could only stare, dumbstruck at all the blood. Bentley squinted up at Murray, forcing himself to steady his voice. "Murray," the turtle said, snapping Murray out of his stupor, "go inside and grab the med kit. I'm not sure there's enough in there to stop the bleeding, but we're going to try, alright?"

"R-right," the large man replied before dashing off towards the apartment.

Their safe house was a simple abode really, only a one floor apartment where they stored all their items, be it Bentley's computers and gadgets, Murray's collection of racing gear and model cars, or Sly's meager personal items. Secretly, they both wondered why Sly had the least amount of worldly possessions, but they'd learned not to question it.

Murray, with speed even unknown to himself, rushed through the kitchen towards the bathroom. He ducked in and quickly pulled out the small med kit they kept there for emergencies. The hippo took a moment to suck in a deep breath to calm his shaking hands, and nerves. Dark smears of blood covering his forearms and hands, made him swallow back bile as they stood out on his pink skin inside the small bathroom. The fluorescent lighting only served to make everything starker. He decided to take a moment to compose himself before running back.

Meanwhile, Bentley, who had managed to procure another blanket, carefully pressed it against Sly's head. The raccoon actually responded this time, and let out a small, pain filled moan at the pressure.

This was encouraging.

Blood continued to flow, and the young turtle thought with a panic about what'd they do if Sly lost too much of it. If this kept up, they'd soon have to turn to a hospital, which was the last thing they wanted to do. Doing so would spell police inquiries as to why the raccoon was so injured, which would in turn lead to their arrest once they figured out they were the infamous Cooper gang.

Even with how dire the setting was, Bentley chortled to himself at the idea of Sly waking up from unconsciousness to find himself handcuffed to a bed. If Carmelita was there, it'd probably make the raccoon believe something else of… much different situations had occurred. Almost as soon as it started, Bentley quelled the itch of laughter in his chest.

Was he going crazy?

Bentley turned the raccoon's head once more, and brought around a flashlight they usually kept in the van towards the wound. Despite the dark blood still pumping out sluggishly, the wound looked rather shallow, although the fact that Sly was still unconscious led to the turtle wondering if the head wound was much worse than it looked. He grimaced, and placed some more pressure on the ragged cut.

It was here he began to assess the rest of the damage to his friend's body.

Sly's right arm appeared to be broken, just below the elbow. It seemed as though during the fall from the window, Sly had hit something, or simply the crash into the van's roof had fractured the arm. Unsure if the broken arm would cause other problems down the road, Bentley decided it would be best to purely reset the bone, and put Sly's arm in a splint. Once he had the proper tools, Bentley was prepared to do what he could to help Sly out to the best of his abilities. A ghost of gratitude rose in Bentley as he thanked anything that could hear for making him read those medical texts years and years ago.

As he waited impatiently for Murray's return, his thoughts began to drift away, and he found himself reminiscing more and more about their adventures together. Of all the times the gang had their necks on the line, but somehow or other, they had slipped out unscathed.

Well, nearly unscathed.

A quick glance at his legs, had him shaking his head in anger. No, this was not the time to blame anyone. _Maybe Clock-la,_ Bentley thought with a smile.

Someone groaned, and Bentley immediately brought his attention back to the raccoon, who appeared to waking up. "Sly?" he asked softly and eased some of the pressure from the head wound. He cringed at the thought of how much pain Sly would be in if he were to wake up now.

Sure enough, Sly's eyes opened, and he blinked for a moment before shifting his gaze to Bentley. Giving the raccoon a timid smile, Bentley said, "glad to see you woke up. I was beginning to worry."

"You're a… worry wart, Bent," Sly whispered. It was hard for him to push the words past his tongue that now felt 10 times too big for his mouth, and although he squinted up at his friend, Sly could barely make out any features. He wasn't sure if it was because the place they were in was too dark, or if it was perhaps something different. A dull ache floated through his limbs, and when he tried to sit up, a shout of pain rent through his lips. Bentley's hands shot forward, and he quickly pushed the raccoon back down on his back. The turtle could feel Sly's muscles tense under his palms, and he bit his lip, knowing that he couldn't do much except coach Sly through the pain.

Sly felt as though his very being were on fire. As soon as he'd tried to sit up, all his nerves flared and agony stabbed every orifice of his body to the point he wanted to die so that it'd all end. He could hear his own voice shouting out against the pain as he writhed against an even pressure on his chest. Dimly, almost as an afterthought, he mused that he had no clue where he was exactly. But he trusted Bentley enough to know that he was in a safe place. Sly squeezed his eyes shut, willing it all to stop.

Watching his friend suffer, was near torture for Bentley. After a few minutes, Sly's body relaxed somewhat, and the raccoon let out a shaky breath past clenched teeth.

He groaned, and squinted up at Bentley. "That… was horrible," he gasped out.

Bentley could only cringe in sympathy, but he held a reassuring hand on the raccoon's shoulder. "Sly, can you…" he paused here, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Can you tell me what happened?"

The raccoon's eyes slid closed. Sly remained silent for a moment, breathing softly, but he soon cracked a smile, and murmured, "Bent, can you… remember when we were at the orphanage?"

The turtle raised an eyebrow at this. "What?"

"I… remember when we got into trouble… for stealing Mrs. Puffin's cookies."

A chuckle rose from Bentley's throat. All the while, he screamed at himself for getting lost in memories, but at the same time, he knew that keeping Sly awake was a bonus. And would help the possible concussion the raccoon could have. "Which time?" Bentley smiled.

Sly made a noise in the back of his throat, almost like a laugh. "When we were… 15... Mrs. Puffin was so mad…"

"Right. Because we didn't only steal her cookies, Sly," Bentley's smile widened now. A dull pain in his chest made Bentley press a fist there, knowing that even though it was a good memory, something else had happened that led to a discovery. It certainly wasn't a perfect memory, but it was something both he and Sly could look back to and laugh.

His eyes began to mist over as he thought back to that fateful day.

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><p>"<em>Sly, this isn't a smart idea," Bentley begged. "Please don't do anything stupid. You'll only get caught. Mrs. Puffin is getting more suspicious of us with each passing day!"<em>

_The raccoon looked down at his friend, letting a huge grin spread across his face. At the age of 15, Sly was confident in his abilities now. It'd taken a while for him to become proficient enough not to be caught, but in those years Sly had gotten to know his strengths and weaknesses. That didn't mean there weren't going to be times he wasn't caught, but overall, Sly knew he was making his family line proud. "C'mon Bentley, you know I'm always up for a challenge. If we're going to get out of here in a few years and look for my Thievius Raccoonus, then we need to test ourselves. Besides, we've done this a million times."_

_It was true, they had done this many times before, the first time being when they were only 9. However, Bentley always fretted, worried, and panicked - and any other word to do with being hysterical - over every little thing before, during, and after a heist._

_This only served to make Sly laugh whenever Bentley called it a 'bad idea' each time they did these little escapades. The turtle chanced a glance at Murray, looking for some sort of backup to his claims, but their large friend was currently staring up at the clouds with a toothy grin on his face._

"_Look guys, there's a cloud that looks like a hot dog!" he exclaimed excitedly, while waving his large hands to get their attention._

_Sly laughed, while Bentley simply shook his head, although a smile tugged at the edges of his lips. It soon faded when he reminded himself of the predicament they were in. "Regardless Sly... What if Mrs. Puffin decides to send you off to a different orphanage?"_

"_She won't," Sly assured with a confident smirk. "'Cause I'm not going to get caught." _

_Bentley could only groan in frustration. He threw his hands into the air, his voice reaching new heights as he cried, "fine! See if I care! Get caught! Murray and I won't vouch for you if that happens!"_

_Sly crossed his arms across his chest and frowned. This caused the reptile to freeze when he saw the hurt in Sly's chocolate brown eyes. "Bentley, that's not how a real gang would think. If something were to go wrong and you got caught, I'd bail you out. Same with Murray."_

_Bentley sighed. He knew saying that had been crossing a line, but he was too scared to tell the guys that he felt something could go terribly wrong. All they were doing was stealing some cookies from Mrs. Puffin. But somehow, Bentley knew that Sly might try and do something reckless just to inject some fun into an otherwise boring adventure. Lately, the raccoon had become increasingly more foolish in his endeavors, and pushing himself to get away with more. _

"_I'm sorry, that was out of line. But I'm just… worried you might do something stupid," Bentley sighed._

_Sly rolled his eyes. "When have I ever done something stupid?"_

"_Well, there was that time when you-"_

"_Okay, okay," Sly waved his paws in a way to get Bentley to shut his mouth. _

_The reptile did so, with a devious grin on his face. _

"_Bentley, I promise I won't do anything stupid," Sly promised. As he said this, he took the blue hat off from his head, and placed it over his heart as an oath. "Remember, all I need for you to do is keep look out. You're not the one actually going in there."_

_Bentley sighed, and pressed a finger between his glasses, to push them up his beak-like nose. "Right," he agreed. "Well, let's get this over with then."_

_**A few hours later…**_

"_How's everything on your end, Sly?" Bentley whispered into the walkie talkie in his hand. The small devices came in real handy whenever they pulled off these sorts of things. Bentley wasn't entirely sure where they had come from, as Sly had come back one day with them in hand and a roguish grin on his face. The turtle had learned long ago not to question the raccoon, and had accepted the devices without a word of protest. _

_Static belched from the walkie talkie for an instant, before Sly's voice filtered through. "I'm in Mrs. Puffin's office." A pause, then, "you know, it's much harder to sneak in through the window than it was when we were kids. I nearly got stuck in it," he joked._

_Bentley rolled his eyes, and whispered into the walkie talkie hurriedly, "Murray, how're things on your end?"_

_Murray's voice, much louder than the turtle would have liked, boomed out, "everything's fine on my end! No sight of Mrs. Puffin, or those other guys."_

"_Good," Bentley smiled. Things were going well. Sly was already in Mrs. Puffin's office, and they'd soon be sneaking back to their rooms, and munching on some cookies. Although, the prospect that they still went after these trivial things would make many scoff, Bentley would muse to himself that it was well worth it, even if he didn't admit it._

_After all, those cookies were really good._

_The turtle was currently crouching at the end of a long hallway, watching for any sort of movement at the other end. Windows lining the walls illuminated everything in a soft light because of the moon, but it also created dark shadows some of which Bentley was using to his advantage to hide in. Even though he wasn't as good as Sly when it came to sneaking around, and hiding, the turtle was good enough not to be seen. Usually, anyway._

_Silence wafted across the hallway, and Bentley began to get slightly bored. Sometimes he wished he could be brave like Sly was, and go into the thick of things and take whatever he wanted. He pushed his glasses up his nose once more, and blinked when he thought he saw movement at the end of the hallway. _

_As he continued to stare, nothing else stirred, and he chalked it up to him being paranoid. __The feeling in the pit of his stomach hadn't left, and it was making him feel queasy. For a heartbeat, he wildly thought he ought to call into Sly's walkie talkie, and warn the thief that someone was coming and to abort the mission now. But something else stopped him. Thoughts ran through his mind as he wondered if he were to do that, what it would do to Sly. Sure, the raccoon would bolt almost right away if Bentley called it in, but then there was the possibility Sly would find out about Bentley's lie. Sure, he'd forgive the turtle eventually, but Bentley wouldn't have been able to live with that guilt. And it would also make it seem as though Bentley didn't trust Sly's abilities, which was the last thing he wanted the raccoon to think._

_He sighed, and closed his eyes to dissuade the raging thoughts and voices in his head. Silently, he wondered how Sly and Murray were doing. Surely, Sly would be done by now?_

_Almost as if on cue, Sly's voice came through the walkie talkie. "Alright, I'm all done here. I also found a nifty pen for you Bentley." The raccoon's voice sounded proud._

_Bentley groaned. "Sly, you broke your promise."_

"_Coopers don't break promises," Sly sounded offended, but there was still a playful edge to his voice. "After all, I only said I wouldn't do anything stupid. The pen was just sitting there, and I figured Mrs. Puffin can always get a new one whenever she wants-"_

"_Just stop," Bentley interrupted, a slight tremor of anger in his voice. "You always do this Sly, even when I warn you it's a bad idea. It's like you don't care about anyone but yourself." Once Bentley realized what he'd just said, he gasped, and stared at his walkie talkie as though it'd grown two heads. _You idiot! _he yelled at himself._

_Silence met his answer, and Bentley bit down on his lip in worry. "Sly?"_

"_Murray," came Sly's toneless voice from the walkie talkie. Bentley's eyes widened when he realized Sly was ignoring him._ With good reason, _mocked a voice in his head. _

_"You can leave your post now," the thief continued. "I'm all done here." With that, the transmission went dead._

Damn it, what have I done? _The whole situation was leaving a foul taste in his mouth. Before he could say anything else, Murray's voice suddenly sounded from his hand, "Bentley? Is everything okay? I uh… heard everything."_

_Bentley groaned, and crouched into a small ball, his head hidden between his arms. "Yes Murray," he said with a sarcastic bite, "everything's perfect. I only just made one of my only friends angry at me for life. Do you think he'll forgive me?" He added that last part hopefully._

"_Well…" Murray started. He sounded unsure of what to say next. "Sly will probably ignore you for a bit. I think. But I'm sure he'll forgive you. We are friends after all!"_

_The turtle remained silent, still chastising himself._

_It was because of this, he didn't hear the footsteps coming down the hallway, and why he nearly jumped out of his shell when a feathered hand landed firmly on his shoulder. "What are you doing out of bed after lights out, young man?" _

_Bentley's head whipped up to find himself staring into none other than Mrs. Puffin's stern gaze. With dark blue feathers beginning to grey with age, and her white hair bundled up into a tight bun atop her head, Mrs. Puffin was an imposing figure at Happy Camper's Orphanage. Despite nearing her 60's, many children - and caretakers alike - dared not cross her path when the old budgie was angry (which was often). Her eyes lit up with anger, and she opened her beak once more to grind out, "answer my question."_

_The turtle was at a loss for words, and all he could do was open and close his mouth like a fish out of water. His brilliant mind was drawing up blanks for an excuse as to why he was so far from his bed at night when it was deemed punishable. "I…"_

"_Into my office. Now." Mrs. Puffin led Bentley into her office, her hand never once leaving his shoulder. The teen winced at the pressure she was putting on his shoulder; he was sure to have bruises there in the morning._

"_Mrs. Puffin-" started Bentley desperately before being cut off._

"_Quiet! I won't hear any excuses from you!" She sat him on the straight backed chair in front of her large desk. Her office was spacious, with tiled floors, and walls painted in a pale pink. Everything was organized, just as she herself usually was, with the walls free of stains, and her books in a wooden bookcase stacked neatly. Bentley's eyes caught the cookie jar sitting on top of her bookcase, and his heart nearly leapt into his throat. The bright red jar was still sitting where it usually did, with the exception of the lid which had been placed on the side. The turtle could only deduce Sly had either done it on purpose, or had simply forgotten. If the old budgie happened to glance up at it, the jig would be up._

_Mrs. Puffin sat at her desk, and gave Bentley a steady stare, making him swallow loudly. "Bentley Turtle," she stated his name almost as if reading off a card. "I never would have thought I'd catch you out of bed. You're an exemplary child, and I have yet to see you break any rules. Care to explain to me _why_ you're out of bed at this hour? I don't have all night, boy."_

_Bentley bit his lip, unsure about what he was going to say. Still unable to think of anything, he quietly placed his walkie talkie in his pocket, which he'd been lucky enough for Mrs. Puffin not to notice. "I… was on a walk," he began lamely. When he saw her eyebrows furrow, and then her eyes begin to narrow dangerously, he hurriedly blurted out, "I just couldn't sleep. Umm… I thought… a walk would be good."_

"_A walk to my office?" she asked quietly. _

"_Yes?" he squeaked._

"_My dear," Mrs. Puffin sighed. She rubbed a hand on her forehead in exasperation. "Don't take me for a fool, simply because I'm old. I've dealt with children like you for much longer than you've been alive. Tell me the truth, or I'll be forced to punish you for this."_

_Bentley swallowed and opened his mouth to spout another lie, when suddenly the door to the office burst open. Mrs. Puffin let out a shriek. Papers on her desk went flying from her flinging her hands up in the air and her chair clattered to the floor when she jumped to her feet. Bentley jumped himself too and saw to his horror, that Sly was standing at the doorway, panting but with a toothy grin on his grey furred face._

"_Evening Mrs. Puffin," he greeted smoothly, while bringing the brim of his cap down slightly as he gave her a charming smile. "How are you tonight?"_

"_Mr._ _Cooper!" she gasped. Her hand clutched at her chest where her heart was. "What- Who- Why are you- Where-" she spluttered._

_A glance passed between the two friends, and Bentley saw Sly wink at him. The raccoon strode forward, and stepped beside Bentley, still grinning like a fool. It would bring most girls his age to fluster and blush, but it had no such effect on Mrs. Puffin. If anything, it made her angrier. "I'm just here to give you something."_

_Much to Bentley's dismay, Sly slid the small red backpack he usually carried on his back over his shoulder, and dumped its contents all over her desk. Bentley mentally groaned when he saw all the items inside Sly's backpack, such as the bag of cookies he'd just taken, the silver pen he'd swiped from her desk, and also another item he didn't recognize. However, the turtle knew that it was most likely something else Sly had taken without telling anyone. _

_Mrs. Puffin seemed at a loss for words. Her eyes widened as she stared at the items on her desk, and she once more spluttered out through clenched teeth, "how did you get these, young man?"_

_Sly shrugged his backpack back on. "You know, you should really think of ramping up the security in your office. Anyone could sneak in and take what they want."_

_The older budgie didn't respond, but her hand reached out and snagged the small sandwich bag full of cookies. "Are these _my_ cookies?" she demanded. Her other hand went to the pen. "And is this _my_ pen?" Bentley cringed as she saw she was starting to tremble with anger. Her body seemed to release an aura of rage that would make any mortal man wane and shiver under her gaze._

_Sly, however, simply nodded, and crossed his arms across his chest. "So, are you going to punish me?"_

_Mrs. Puffin glared at the raccoon. "Of course I am, you silly child. What else would you expect when you waltz in here at-" she glanced at her clock, "-1:38 AM, out of bed, and show me that you've _stolen_ from me? You're in a lot of trouble, young man."_

_The raccoon smiled. "Perfect. Is Bentley allowed to go?"_

_She blinked. It seemed as though she'd forgotten about Bentley while she raged at Sly. "Yes, yes go ahead and back to bed, you," she waved a hand at Bentley. "But if I catch you out of bed again, you'll be sorry, young man."_

_Bentley's eyes widened behind his glasses, and he leapt up to his feet. "W-wait! Mrs. Puffin you can't just-"_

"_Bentley," Sly cut across calmly. The turtle looked up at into his friend's face, and saw a sincerity in Sly's brown eyes that made him want to kick himself. "Just go. I'll catch up with you."_

_With that said, Mrs. Puffin rushed to where Bentley and Sly stood, and chased the reptile out of her office. "I must speak with Mr. Cooper about his punishment, Mr. Turtle. Shoo! Off you go. If I catch you out of bed again, just be warned…" She allowed the threat to hang over the two before she swept back into her office and shut the door in Bentley's face._

_Still wrapped in shock, he could only stare at the door. What was Sly thinking? Why did he do that? How is Sly going to get out of this? Many questions flitted through Bentley's mind like bats, and he waved them away with a frustrated moan. _

"_Damn it, Sly," he muttered quietly. Bentley rarely swore, but for this particular scenario, all manners were off the table. He checked the wristwatch he usually had on, and noted it was now 1:49 AM. Deciding to wait, Bentley sat down in a shadowed corner, and waited to see if Sly would come out any time soon. Mrs. Puffin's office remained silent, save for some muffled shouts from the old budgie escaping the wooden gate. After another 20 minutes, the door finally opened, and Sly walked out, still looking as calm as when he'd first burst into the office._

"_Sly!" Bentley said in hushed tones as he hurried forward. For a heartbeat his legs, having fallen asleep while he sat, nearly gave out under him, but he stumbled forward regardless. Sly stopped where he was and waited for the turtle to catch up. _

_Once Bentley did, he glared up at Sly. "What did you think you were doing?"_

_A smile living up the raccoon's name lit up his face. "I just created a distraction for you. Now your perfect record is safe." Patting the turtle on the shell, Sly turned to leave, but Bentley dodged in front of the raccoon._

"_Sly, you're being ridiculous. How much trouble are you in?" Suddenly a thought came up in the turtle's mind. "Wait, are you in a lot of trouble? Is Mrs. Puffin sending you away?"_

_The thief shrugged. "I just have kitchen duty for a month. It's not so bad."_

_A sigh escaped from the reptilian genius. "Why'd you do it Sly?" Bentley demanded. He was a bit angry that Sly would do something so reckless. What if Mrs. Puffin had decided to send the raccoon to a different orphanage? But then he realized he was also angry at himself. Was this Sly's way of proving to Bentley that no matter what they said to each other, they'd still be best friends? There was a small voice inside of Bentley that laughed when he realized this was exactly how Sly was. A tight feeling in his throat brought tears to his eyes when he realized that perhaps the bond they shared as friends ran much deeper than he had first thought. _

_They both remained silent, before Sly simply smiled down at Bentley, while placing a paw on the turtle's shoulder. "Hey, what are brothers for?"_

* * *

><p>As Bentley faded out of his memories, he chuckled wryly to himself. "You always had this complex of sacrificing yourself for us," he muttered. Despite how the scenario had ended, and how Sly complained to the two for a full month after because of the chores, Bentley always thanked Sly for doing what he did. And he also never forgot how Sly forgave him, even when a lesser man would have held Bentley's words over his head.<p>

There was no answer, and Bentley looked down frantically at his friend. Sly remained silent, his breath coming out softly from his slightly parted lips. The raccoon's eyes opened once more, and he gave a weak smile, his voice sounding just as exhausted as he looked. "Glad to see… you're grateful…"

"I'm always grateful Sly," Bentley protested. He jumped and held back a yelp, when Sly's left paw came up suddenly to pat the turtle's forearm, the only limb that Sly could reach.

"I know," Sly barely whispered. His paw went limp, and his eyes promptly slid shut. Bentley rushed forward, and grabbed the raccoon's wrist and pressed two fingers to the vein. Sly's pulse was slow, but at the very least it was something. Looking around at the sodden and stained blankets around, Bentley knew that Sly was losing blood much too fast, and if the turtle didn't get that first aid kit soon, Sly could very well…

He shook his head, furious at himself for even thinking it. "No," he said out loud. "I won't let that happen."

A sound outside the van turned Bentley's head, and he saw Murray had come back, the med kit in his hands. "I have the kit, buddy!" he said while rushing forward.

Bentley immediately sat up straighter in his wheelchair, and he took the med kit from Murray's large hand. "Perfect. Alright Murray, I'll need help moving Sly, and I'll also need your help making a splint." He pulled off his old, blood stained gloves on, and replaced them with rubber gloves one would normally find in a hospital. As he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration and laid out the items he would need, a thought rang through his head. Something that he usually didn't think of, but in this dire situation, he had to think it. He had to promise himself this one thing.

_Coopers aren't the only ones who don't break promises._

* * *

><p><strong>This… turned out much longer than I thought it would. Still not 100% satisfied with it, however I'm going to stop messing around with it. I now have 4 different versions of this chapter, so… I'm done with it for now.<strong>

**Thanks for reading and hope you stick around for the last chapter!**


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